


Azteca Tacos III

by cincoflex



Series: Azteca Tacos [3]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: At last!, F/M, Mutual Crushes, we're going to the zoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex
Summary: Icouldtake him of course. Hane-goshi or o-gurumu would land Avery on his ass but I didn’t want that. I mean, Ididwant him under me at some point, yeah, that would be just fine but I wasn’t going to throw him down for it.Unless he wanted that. And even then I’d insist on a mat and a whole lot of privacy.





	Azteca Tacos III

**Xochi**

I delivered my lecture on the basalt carvings with nearly seventy-five percent of my attention on it, working hard to talk about the development of chisels and the significance of concentric patterns in ritual art, but the other twenty-five percent of my mind was on the potential issues of dating a white guy.

I’d done it before but not successfully—the only one I’d gone out with had been completely intimidated by my dad, who I admit can be a formidable figure. Think Ving Rhames, but taller and with a Shaft mustache. On top of that, add a sixth degree black belt in Judo and an overprotective nature. All that was tough for any potential boyfriend to overcome, yeah, and when you add race into it, things get awkward.

That’s probably the reason why I’d drifted into that thing with Jamal as well, I knew.

Anyway, I was on another coast, starting my own life and career so I had a better shot at succeeding in terms of Mr. Avery Brown. Sure he was born into white privilege but he was aware of it, and concerned about all the same sorts of political issues I was . . . as far as I could tell. We hadn’t talked in any real depth about matters like Black lives, or police brutality, or the idiotic actions of the current White House resident though we’d touched on them.

But I had a feeling we’d get to it soon enough.

And a part of me was definitely curious about our physical compatibility. I was already crazy about the athletic sweet guy vibe he gave off, that’s for sure. A weekend sports nut who probably played basketball and football when he could. Maybe a runner who lifted a little as well . . .

Pulling myself out of those enticing thoughts I wrapped up my lecture, announced the upcoming quiz and dismissed my students, feeling glad to be done. As the last student straggled out, I looked up to see Doctor Zuckermann lounging in the doorway, looking at me in that less than PC way of his.

“Ah, Miss Franklin,” he began, oozing into my room. I wasn’t thrilled to have him between me and the only exit, but I managed a nod.

“Doctor Zuckermann.”

“Did you attend that particular demonstration in Lafayette Square a few days ago?” he asked, and my shoulders tingled.

“Is there a _reason_ for the question?” I countered as I busied myself with shutting down my laptop. “Aside from a general inquiry about my possibly practicing my First Amendment rights?”

“Oh I think you and I know it’s more of a certainty,” he asserted, giving me a knowing smile. “You’re quite striking on camera.”

I said nothing, and he continued. “Georgetown has a strong liberal tradition and I’m glad to see you active in supporting it, but if you ever need any sort of help or aid . . . bail for example, or a ride home please keep _me_ in mind, day or night.”

Keeping a neutral expression was hard but I did my best. “Thank you for your consideration, Doctor Zuckermann; it’s very kind of you to extend such a generous offer, however I make it a personal policy to keep my professional and personal commitments separate, all the better to model good moral ethics for our students.”

He was taken aback for a moment but smiled at me after a second. “Your discretion is to be commended, Miss Franklin, but really we don’t need to be so formal. You’re a member of my department and I want you to consider me your friend. Hopefully your _good_ friend.”

I stared at him and he gave a little smug smirk back—the sort I wanted to slap off his face. Instead I shrugged. “If you’ll excuse me; I have a meeting with the sensei of my dojo.”

That unnerved him a bit, and I shouldered my laptop bag and purse, moving as confidently as I could to the door, feeling Doctor Zuckermann hesitantly following. “Oh yes, you take karate?”

“Judo,” I replied. “My father has the black belt, but I’m catching up quickly.”

He hesitated and I added, “If you don’t mind locking up for me?” and left.

So irritating. I headed out briskly, feeling that sense of annoyance that comes from unwanted attention that’s just on the edge of reporting. I knew Zuckermann had a reputation but slippery devil that he was, nothing had been done beyond warning new staff about him. HR needed more than ‘she said, he said’ statements and so far nobody had much beyond that, or so I heard.

The added burden of being quote ‘exotic’ unquote didn’t help either. Apparently there are people (usually older people, and a lot of them white, I’m sorry to say) who think that bi-racialism is particularly glamorous and/or something special.

For the record, I don’t—I’ve had to deal with comments all my life, and straddling the line is tough. It’s fluid for me—some days I feel more black, and others more Latina, and much as they love me, even my parents don’t always get what I go through. What I do know is that if Zuckermann tries any sort of physical move on me, he’s gonna end up on his ass, that’s for damned sure.

**Avery**

I got through to Georgie a little after three, making the call from my office, behind closed doors, feeling a little idiotic but needing the advice. They answered right away, soothing as ever.

“You’re very lucky I’m not the jealous or covetous type,” Georgie informed me. “So what’s going on, Avery?”

“Just . . . feeling flustered I guess,” I sighed. “Having that head and body conflict I’m so good at.”

“Honey they _should_ be on the same page at this point,” Georgie replied. “What does your heart say?”

“That particular organ’s out of the loop,” I admitted glumly. “Hard enough to mediate with the other two.”

I heard them laugh. “Fair enough. So . . . you kissed Ms Xochitl. How did _that_ happen?”

Fumbling a little I talked about the march and the offer of lunch, ending with the impromptu smooch under the awning of Seredy Brothers Woodworks Ltd.

“Was there tongue?” Georgie asked.

“It was a near thing but my Lyft interrupted that,” came my confession. “Yes, that was the direction things were going.”

“And . . . ? Splutterings, embarrassment? Huffiness on her part?”

I thought back. “Nope. I’m pretty sure she was as stunned as I was though. I took us both by surprise I guess.”

“Interesting,” Georgie murmured, “and encouraging. Seems as if things are moving along a good course then. What’s the problem?”

“You mean aside from dealing with a completely inappropriate erection and trying not to over-analyze matters, and let’s not forget that she and I haven’t even discussed our private lives to any degree? That she most likely had no clue that I’m . . .”

“Avery, hon, you introduced me as your ex—I’m pret-ty sure Ms Franklin has an inkling,” Georgie patiently reminded me. “And given that we all had a delightful time bagging on your cookies while drinking good wine she seems to be fine with me and your inclusivity.”

I sighed. “You think so? I just . . . when I’m around her everything’s good. Then I start overthinking things and . . . start doubting I’m capable of . . . whatever it is I want.”

“Maaaaybe we need to stop projecting and putting a bar waaay over our heads, Avery. Relationships unfold, baby. You can’t _plan_ everything in an outline, and tick off boxes as you go.”

“I’d be easier if I could,” I sighed. “MUCH easier.”

“Ah but not as much fun,” Georgie reminded me. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve gotten physical with someone and that your libido is probably trying to control the wheel but banish that pushy bastard to the back seat. Do all those _nice_ things with her that we used to do: hold hands; cuddle; give some good serious hugs. Damn, now I miss those.”

“Georgie . . .” I murmured, feeling awkward and a little sad.

“No, no it’s for the best,” they replied spritely. “And there’s someone I’m seeing as well.”

“Oh. Uh, good,” I cleared my throat. “They better treat you right. Let me know if I need to teach any lessons.”

“Appreciated, sweetie, but he’s half your size, twice your age and extremely British. Not a threat to anything but my heartstrings. Think Alistair Cooke with a goatee.”

I chuckled. “Okay then. And so I should just . . . go with the flow?”

“Yes,” Georgie agreed. “When are you seeing her next?”

“We have a date to go to . . . the zoo,” I admitted, feeling sheepish.

Georgie’s laugh didn’t help. “Reeeally? Oh that ought to be good! Who’s suggestion was that?”

“Hers.”

“Even better,” came the chortle. “Don’t you see? She’s offering up the birds and the bees, Avery. And not in a subtle way either. Very Freudian.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she just likes walking around with balloons while watching indifferent giraffes and flamingos,” I countered, grinning.

“Ha!” Georgie laughed as well. “Well we’ll see at the end of the date, won’t we? In the meantime be your usual charming self and keep in mind you’re a brilliant catch, Avery Brown.”

I hung up, feeling a little more confident.

**Xochi**

Zoos are one of my favorite places visit when I want to walk and talk. There are always paths to follow and things to discuss in life, so why not set them amid animals, right? LA has a good zoo, although San Diego’s is bigger of course and more famous. I’d held off on coming to the one here because I prefer going with someone over going by myself.

Silly? Kid stuff? Maybe. But the day was open to be fun, and I was looking forward to it, particularly after that kiss. I hadn’t been in a place like this in a long time—that mindset where anything could happen and you’re thrilled by all the possibilities. With Jamal things had been exciting mostly because everything had to be kept secret, but that got old pretty fast. My conscience started bothering me early on but there never seemed to be a good time or way to make the break until I flew across the country. Even the one visit Jamal made . . . no, it _was_ over, I was through with him and had been for a while, I realized.

I was in the parking lot behind the cheetah compound when I spotted Avery headed my way, long stride moving him past slower pedestrians. Today he looked very academic, with glasses and a hunter green sweater vest under his sports coat. The man practically bounced up to me and I smiled, pulling him into a good hug just to get a deep inhale of his scent; whatever his cologne was, I liked it.

“Hey there!” I chirped at him, nervous but determined to get over it. “Ready to winnow your way through strollers and tourists?”

“I was _born_ to winnow,” he grinned, damn near blinding me with those teeth. “Nearly minored in it at Penn.”

“You don’t say?” I had to tease. “And yet journalism won out.”

He shrugged playfully. “Yes well the professional market for winnowers is highly specialized, riddled with nepotism.” Avery lowered his voice and added, “rocked with scandals too.”

“My stars!” I pretended to be shocked and ruined it by giggling. “You’re _full_ of surprises.”

“More than you know,” he replied, and took my hand. “By the way, I’m standing _behind_ you when we get to the monkey cages.”

“I’ll just duck,” I laced my fingers with his, enjoying his laugh.

The sun was out but it didn’t do much to warm anything up. We crossed North Road together, both of us a little shy I guess, but as I said, walking leads to talking, and as we strolled along the curve of the Cheetah conservation area I enjoyed the heat of his palm against mine.

Once we made it around the enclosure and reached the directory sign I gave his fingers a squeeze. “So, where from here?”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Visitor center? We can probably get a map there, and see what’s new or closed.”

“Practical,” I nodded, and we headed right. I noticed Avery shortened his stride so I didn’t have to hurry to keep pace with him and appreciated that. I’d managed to work my hair into a braid down my back and wore my hammered gold hoop earrings to remind me I was officially on a date; when I caught a reflection of us in the glass of the visitor’s center I smiled.

“Got something we should see first, or should we just . . . amble?” I asked as I nabbed one of the glossy guides near the door.

Avery studied the big interactive map across one wall, considering matters before shooting me a sidelong glance. “Ambling’s good,” he murmured. “We can see the small cats and cheetahs first at this end of the zoo.”

And it’s what we did, strolling along and talking about cats which led to pets—I got to hear great stories about Benny, the wheeled wonder as we tried to spot ocelots and jaguars hiding in the various enclosures. I told Avery about the one dog I’d had, and the chickens mom raised before we both settled into a companionable silence.

Then came the question.

“So . . . are you seeing anyone right now?” Avery asked me as we took turns at a drinking fountain. I finished my sip and glanced up at him.

“No,” I replied, feeling a little uneasy. “I’m currently a free agent, although that’s a recent development.” Seeing his trepidation, I sighed. “I’m not proud of it, but for a while I was the other woman in some else’s relationship. I ended it about two months ago.”

“Ohh,” was all Avery said, but he didn’t look disgusted or judgmental, just patient.

I took a breath and as lightly as I could explained about Helene and Jamal and how I’d made the decision to break it off. Avery listened, nodding, and we headed towards the panda paddock were a cluster of kids and parents were staring at a black and white ball chewing on bamboo along the far side.

“So . . . that’s where I am. Not exactly a nice person I guess,” I sighed.

Avery snorted. “Excuse me? From what I’ve heard _Jamal’s_ kind of the dick in this, metaphorically and physically.”

“I went along with it,” I pointed out. “Which was selfish and hurtful to Helene.”

“Maybe. Have you talked to her about this?”

I flinched.

**Avery**

Pragmatically I knew Xochi had to have had a romantic past; she was sensual and smart, but I hadn’t expected it to be as a third party. She hadn’t struck me as the type, yet who was I to talk?

Life, as Mom would say, is damned messy.

I risked slipping an arm around Xochi’s shoulders and hugged. She hugged back and we took our time separating again before turning to look at the panda down in the enclosure.

“I _needed_ that,” she murmured. “No, I haven’t said anything to Helene. I’m tempted not to and just let sleeping dogs . . . sleep with somebody else, you know?”

“But if he tells her and later she asks you . . .” I pointed out gently.

I didn’t mean to drag the day down; Xochi pursed her lips and gave a slow nod. “Yeah, I thought about that too. Helene deserves better than that, but if I tell her . . . the friendship may not make it through.” 

“A risk,” I agreed, and left it at that. Clearly she had a lot to think about and didn’t need any added pressure on the matter. We watched the panda flop around on the grass for a while and then headed down the path, past the ‘closed for renovation’ exotic bird exhibit and Xochi pointed to the sidewalk path that led to the big cats area.

“So are _you_ seeing anyone right now?” she lobbed back at me, and I smiled.

“No, I’m single, although like you, coming out of a . . . relationship.”

“Georgie,” Xochi nodded. “At least you’re on good terms with your ex.”

We paused, both of us spotting a lioness lounging under a bare tree in her enclosure. She was grooming a massive paw in long deliberate swipes of her tongue, like someone giving themselves a manicure.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “So . . . you understand I’m bi.”

Xochi reluctantly looked away from the lioness to me, making an affirmative sound.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

She made an encouraging gesture. “And?”

“And I . . . just wanted you to know that,” I managed in a little rush of words. “It’s part of who I am.” I tried to keep my voice steady and succeeded.

Mostly.

Xochi smiled. I watched it blossom, her mouth curving up, her dimples deepening. “I’ve known that for a while,” she replied. “Here I was worried you were going to tell me you’re HIV positive, or had a kid, or were leaving the country for a year—you know, something scary!”

I blinked, and the rush of relief was so strong I laughed. “What? No! No HIV, pretty sure I don’t have a secret love child and I’m staying right here for the time being!”

“Only _pretty_ sure?” Xochi teased, pulling me into a hug. I liked how strong she was, and wrapped myself around her, enjoying the press of her curves against me.

“I’m careful about where I leave my deposits,” I told her and she giggled against my shoulder. When she pulled back and looked up at me, I could read the welcome in her face; the soft gaze and oh that mouth . . .

I kissed her.

Brains and conscious thought shut down as I did so; all I could do was savor the overload of sensuality of those soft lips and the flick of her tongue meeting mine for the first time. Xochi was delicious and all my baser instincts drove me to deepen our kiss, putting us in full PDA mode but I damn well didn’t care at this point.

And she kissed back, those strong arms pulling me closer, her own response just as urgent as mine as the kiss became a little luscious play of lips and tongues and finally a happy duet of purrs. I would have kept kissing her but the sound of other people approaching brought us both back to the moment and we pulled apart, catching our breaths.

“Daaaaaaaamn,” she chortled, smirking up at me. “I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time, Mr. Avery Brown!”

Dazed as I was, it was difficult to focus through my glasses, and I blinked. “Ah, feel free to give into that desire anytime. Really. _Any_ time. Like, as soon as these families leave, even.”

“Yes,” she agreed, shooting glances at the kids, who were pointing at the lioness and yelling, “Kitty!”

We lingered a bit, arms around each other, and when the group showed no signs of moving on, I led Xochi away, determined to find someplace more romantic and less tainted with the musk of lions.

**Xochi**

Okay, that was a damned good kiss. That was deliberate and delicious and I was determined to get a few more of those, thank you _please_. My whole body was thrumming and on edge; well-aware of Avery’s arm around me. It was a nice weight. Grounding. Strong.

I could take him of course. Hane-goshi or o-gurumu would land Avery on his ass but I didn’t want that. I mean, I did want him under me at some point, yeah, that would be just fine but I wasn’t going to throw him down for it.

Unless he _wanted_ that. And even then I’d insist on a mat and a whole lot of privacy.

Where these ideas were coming from I didn’t know, and tried to shake them out of my head. Avery shot a sidelong look at me and smirked. “Second thoughts?”

“Weird thoughts. Not about the kissing. I’m up for that in a big way,” I hurried to reassure him. “Just . . . had a moment of kink there.”

He stopped and I nearly ran into him, right next to the information kiosk about birds of prey. “Say what?”

I blushed. “Ummm, just you know,” I tried to wave it off. “kink.”

He got into my face, smirking again, those blue eyes alllll over me. “This I have to hear. Come on, Xochi . . . spill. At least a hint!”

“It’s nothing crazy . . . maybe,” I tried to bluff. “I just thought about throwing you down and pinning you.” At his expression I rushed to add,” like in Judo!”

“Judo,” he echoed, gaze still bright. “Yeah, kinky. But I like it.”

“You wouldn’t if I did it right,” I pointed out, painful memories of being slammed myself flooding back.

“But you weren’t thinking about hurting me,” Avery challenged, still grinning. “I’m betting it was something a lot less violent and a lot more . . . . And now _I’m_ thinking about it too. Kink spreads, you know. Like a virus.”

I pretended to look at the kiosk. “We’re both a little charged up, let’s admit it right now. And it’s a good thing we’re in a public place because . . .” He was running his hand along my back and the feel of it was so good and so distracting I forgot what I was saying. “Uhhhh . . .”

“You’re cute when you’re confused,” he told me. “Just like you’re cute all the other times as well.”

“No fair,” I protested, half wanting him to stop and half wanting him to keep touching me. “Now I don’t know what to do!”

“Well, I vote we finish walking the zoo,” Avery suggested in a reasonable voice, “have lunch, and go somewhere to make out.”

I giggled. “Oh really? You’re willing to actually have lunch first?”

“Certainly,” Avery nodded. “After all we need to talk about your kinks.”

“My kinks? What about your kinks?”

He pretended to think that over as we both turned to the birds of prey pathway. “Does being thrown and pinned down by you count?”

“No,” I smothered my giggles as we passed by two nuns. “That’s just piggybacking on mine; I’m sure you’ve got plenty of your own to add to the conversation, Mr. Avery Brown.”

“Maaaaybe,” he taunted softly, and smiled again.

We ended up at the cafe overlooking the lion enclosure. Avery tried to pay but I shut that down pretty quick. “I asked you out, it’s my prerogative here.” He batted his eyes at me and agreed, which tickled me to no end. A flirt. Now that we were on another personal level I was discovering this man was definitely, decidedly a flirt.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” I accused him as we carried our food to a table with a great view of the pseudo-veldt.

“Nah,” he assured me. “I already _am_ trouble.”

**Avery**

What I meant was that I was in trouble because it was getting very difficult to keep my hands off Xochi. Having been enveloped in her hug, having kissed and tasted her, I was seriously down for deeper interludes along those lines as soon as possible. When you’ve been invited into another person’s personal space; when your aura has meshed with theirs . . . it’s heady stuff. 

Intimacy is addictive. Not just sex or the potential for sex, but the true and lovely sense of shared perception of each other. That sweet sync that happens when you share jokes that make no sense, and stories you haven’t told anyone else. THAT sort of vibe. 

I had a certain level of that with Georgie, who can get anyone to open up within a few hours, but this was different. I went into things with Georgie knowing there would be a Do Not Pass Go point on the board. They’d been very clear about that from the start and I respected it. After a while it became more difficult for my physical self to stay within those boundaries and I realized it wasn’t being fair to Georgie either. 

And they knew. They understood. They made it easy to accept that drives and desires were not inherently good or bad; they were part of who we are as individuals. We stayed friends, something I’m glad about. Georgie is one of the staunchest allies I have and always good for an ear or a sofa or advice. 

With Xochi though . . . Go was just around the corner. Not just for me, either--she kept watching me, touching me, dipping into my personal space with growing comfort. I adored it. Her scent . . . hormones, pheromones, perfume, wow. 

“So, kink,” Xochi reminded me as we settled in. “How do YOU define it?” 

“I’d say anything I can’t picture my parents doing, but with my mother riding the original wave of the Sexual Revolution that doesn’t quite work,” I admitted, fishing out a few fries from the bag on my plate. 

Xochi gave a snicker. “Yeah, back in the day things like role-playing and spanking were pretty outre and now they’re common place.” 

“But still fun,” I pointed out, feeling a little warm. “What’s a paddling between friends, am I right?” 

She pointed a finger at me. “Oh you just gave yourself away there. So Mr. Avery Brown isn’t averse to a little over the knee. Got it.” 

I raised my chin in an effort to look dignified that I’m sure I didn’t pull off. “Let’s say it’s not off the table. Is turnabout fair play?” 

Xochi did not meet my gaze. “I’m pleading the Fifth,” she murmured and I nearly choked on my fry. 

“N-now you’re piggybacking on _my_ kink,” I pointed out, “which we both have agreed is pretty mainstream as these things go. Where are the _real_ kinks, Xochi?” I demanded in my best mock-dramatic reporter fashion. “Those right-on-the edge deviances that will make or break us?” 

She held my gaze, fighting a smile, doing her best to play it straight, bless her. “Welllll . . . I’m big on narratophilia and pictophilia and I’ve dabbled in transvestic fetishism . . . for openers.” 

Nearly choked again as I tried to decipher each of those and fight the surge of arousal charging through me. Damn that sapiophilia of mine “Right. So . . .” 

Xochi grinned. “Dirty talk, dirty art, and cross-dressing. I did spend nearly three years in the UCLA Art department and if there was ever a sweet hotbed for alternative lifestyles that was it, _querido_. Also, those glasses of yours? Driving me crazy here.” 

Oh this was more than flirting; this was sheer erotic torture now and I was all for it. “So tell me about this cross-dressing,” I bluffed, aware that an elderly man one table over was looking our way. 

"I was in a video for a friend’s art project and it required . . . packing,” she told me, eyes bright. “Found out I kind of enjoyed the experience and kept the paraphernalia. I even wore it a few times to judo meets for a distraction.” 

Trying to picture Xochi in a judo gi with a strap-on had me nearly squirming, wondering if it was too early to propose to her. 

**Xochi**

I must have hit a nerve because Avery looked uncomfortable, so I laid a hand over his. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. We West coasters, we’re all a little crazy—“ 

“No, not upset. Not at all,” he blurted, clearly trying to stay casual and cool. “I’m good.” 

Then I realized he was blushing. Oh God. Yeah, definitely pink across the cheeks under those glasses. I took a breath and held his gaze with mine. “Okay you’re being irresistibly cute right now so I think we need to blow this Popsicle stand before we both die of spontaneous mutual horniness.” 

“Thank you,” Avery sighed. “Gracias, merci, danke! I wasn’t sure I could _take_ much more.” 

That made me laugh again. I hadn’t been this giddy or aroused in ages, and there was something about Avery that brought it out so easily. We bussed our tables, linked hands and left the zoo, heading to my car. Not rushing, but neither one of us was lingering either thanks to that sense of anticipation that had me fumbling for my keys. 

“Hey,” Avery caught my hands. “No pressure. I want you to know that, okay? It’s all about consent.” 

I nodded. “I know, and I appreciate that. I just . . . I’m caught between self-consciousness and tension I guess.” 

“I know what you mean,” he wryly agreed, “which is why _you_ get to call the shots.” 

“Get in,” I smirked. 

We made it back to my place in pretty good time, and clambered up the fire escape stairs in the thin afternoon sunshine. I got the door unlocked, threw my purse off and turned, grabbing Avery quickly. 

He got with the program, cupping my face with his cold hands and kissing me lightly: cheeks, chin mouth. Ohhh, yes, one of those tease the life out of you kisses that left me weak in the knees. 

But I gave as good as I got, and we swayed there like a pair of drunks, holding onto each other, slurping and kissing and finally breaking apart to laugh in each other’s faces. 

“I needed that,” Avery admitted, looking a little flushed, his glasses slightly steamed. “You have no idea how much.” 

“Oh I have a clue,” I pressed my forehead to his collarbone, sighing happily. “Sofa.” 

My living room set was an overstock special in nubby grey and white stripes that I tried to dress up with fancy embroidered throw pillows from Bolivia. The main sofa was a little short for someone as tall as Avery but it didn’t seem to matter because once we got horizontal both of us shifted around on it a lot. The frantic edge was off, and now it was time to play, once I set his glasses aside. 

Oh the things I learned! Mr. Avery Brown had erogenous zones around his ears, and nibbles there made him shudder. I also realized he liked being kissed on his throat, and had amazing eyelashes. The brush of his beard took some getting used to, but those lips and that tongue . . . he had talents, that’s for sure. 

He kept distracting me, making me squirm as he planted little kisses from corner to corner on my mouth, and wove his fingers into my hair, playing with the tight curls. And dear God the press of his body against mine left me wriggling and hot and hungry. When I straddled one of his long thighs, the press, the friction was just riiiiight . . . 

It was gonna happen. I felt myself rock against him, the seam of my slacks snug and almost painful as I did so, and he rocked back, both of us groaning now, our kisses waxing and waning as we panted into each other’s mouths. A little more friction, just a little more and I tensed hard, my body exploding in shudders as my orgasm hit, juddering through me so hard I gasped, soaring in the most intense pleasure. 

God. Couldn’t believe it, and as I tried to catch my breath I realized Avery had his big hands clamped on my ass, desperate for a little pressure himself. I ground against him, only to watch him arch up a few minutes later, growling as he came. 

I held him, neither of us saying a word aloud, but I licked a little salt off his cheek, and Avery gave a contented purr. 


End file.
